Fight Night
by Konstantinsen
Summary: The New Vegas underground can hold many surprises. One of which is enough to attract the attention of the region's most prominent figure.
1. Chapter 1

_August 2, 2284_

The beast stood triumphant over its opponent—a deathclaw having devoured a similar creature of its stature. The crowds had gone wild with delight and were ready for final show of bloodletting.

In the midst of the applause, she felt a tap on her shoulder. "Red Lucy, we have a special guest."

She turned to see a man descending the catwalks. He was dressed in an astonishingly clean white suit and sported a bulb of curly hair. He greeted her with the familiar smile she had not seen in two years.

"Ah, the ruler of New Vegas! I had long thought you dead, my dear hunter."

"Alas, your assumptions have proven false. I am very much alive and well." She was well aware that he did not speak with a royalty twang very often. However, it did suit the moment of solemnity between them. Besides, he was a man of utmost power and admirable repute. He turned to the arena. "I guess I was a tad too late."

"Do not worry yourself. The Thorn still has one more fight."

"And that would be?"

"A contender from a distant land will challenge the strength of our greatest deathclaws."

Zeus raised a brow. "Oh? That would be very interesting. And who is this contender?"

She curved her lips. "He is by far a growing favourite. He has been with us for nearly a month now but has proven himself greatly. Many have fallen to his hand." She faced the arena as the gates were opened. The shouts then became chants. "I give you your mirror image."

Iron rasped against iron and a muscular form stepped into the spotlight. He scanned the crowds and gazed at the ringmaster and her companion.

Walker kept his face impassive. There was something about this spectator that put him on edge; an aura that dictated power and prestige. He shrugged it off. After all, he had to focus on tonight's match before delving into other matters.

Zeus rubbed his chin, gears already shifted. So far, this individual had a strong build, chiselled and scarred. _And fighting shirtless. Reminds me of when I last fought here. _The moment their eyes connected, however, was enough to print the image that he expected of him. "What is his name?"

"He is known as Walker. But aged veterans of the wasteland refer to him as the Lone Wanderer."

_Is that so? _The Courier muffled his awe. _And so a legend comes to play. But why here?_ On the other side of the arena, Charon and Dogmeat eyed the visitor in the white suit.

* * *

Charon handled the transaction while Walker tended to his wounds. The previous fight had been his greatest challenge. _This better be my last._

The bottle caps jingled in the aluminium container. "Well?"

"Our total earnings are now up to fifteen thousand."

_I guess I should find another job. _"Charon, you want to go another round in the ring?"

"I'd rather not." Charon's only shindig at the arena had gone down rather roughly but in his favour. Cazadores were creatures he still needed getting used to.

Dogmeat licked at the abrasions on his master's heel. "Fifteen thousand caps, right?"

"Yeah."

_If only paper money still had its value, we would be out of this hellhole._ The Thorn was only a side-job. One of the main reasons why they had trekked through the American wasteland was in search of a rare Gauss rife variant that the Mojave Brotherhood managed to identify but was unable to find. A source had hinted that there was someone who knew of the location of the weapon and that the individual made previous visits to an underground monster-fighting arena known as the Thorn.

"How much did we spend since leaving the Capital?"

"Around twenty thousand or more." Charon tucked the large can in a duffel bag, along with five other full cans.

_Son of a bitch. _"What do you think? Hunting or fighting?" The caps were mainly to stabilize their finances. Other high paying jobs were too fishy to delve into… yet.

"Whichever you want so long as I'm not the one in the spotlight."

Walker lay down on the cot, waiting for sleep to dull his senses. _Screw it._ "Wake me up when it's seven. We're leaving." He stole one final glance at the digital clock on his Pip-boy—_two in the morning_—and embraced sweet bliss.


	2. Chapter 2

_August 3, 2284_

The sun shone brightly over the horizon, its radiant beams piercing the thick glass panes of the Lucky 38's circular penthouse. _Another day, another round of cleaning up drunks and junkies off the streets. Well, that ain't my problem anymore._ He checked his Pip-boy. _Six o'clock. Good._ He headed to the dining area to fetch a mug of coffee. The interface monitors hummed as he passed by.

"Good morning, Zeus!" the robotic AI greeted over the main terminal.

The head of New Vegas stifled a yawn. "Morning, Yes Man. So what's on the agenda?"

"Pretty much the same as last time. What do you want to know about?"

_Not much, really. _Having to hear the same news every morning was enough to train his mind at assuming that everything was okay. _Westside's good. Freeside's good. New Vegas is good. _"Update me on the Dam."

"Hoover Dam is currently generating a high output of electricity. Security is tight and so far, no incidents have been recorded."

_That doesn't mean nothing happened._ He told himself that every day. "HELIOS One?"

"The Brotherhood is doing a good job of keeping it in shape. The solar tower is currently diverting power to the whole region. Combined with Hoover Dam, I calculate that no black-outs or power interruptions would occur within the next year."

It was the same prediction that never failed to come through. "NCR?"

"Same as always: staying on the other side of the border." The New California Republic had once gained partial control over the Mojave after winning the First Battle of Hoover Dam in 2277. But with Zeus' intervention five years later, the country was forced to withdraw for purposes of "internal political stabilization."

"Appointments?"

"You have a meeting with a representative of the NCR at ten."

_Oh yeah. _"Anything else I need to know about?"

The speakers reverberated with a brief hum. "Swank told me to tell you that you needed to check out the latest acts on the Aces Theater."

An amused grunt. "Tell him and Tommy that Billy needs to stop staring at the new kid's rack." _Other than that, she has a nice ass._ Zeus finished off the morning's cappuccino.

"Will do. And one more thing, there were rumors going around that a pair of suspicious-looking tourists helped out the miners at Sloan clear out the deathclaws that were constantly moving in. Amazingly, they even had a dog that was tough enough to withstand deathclaw swipes. Pretty impressive for a canine, if you ask me."

_So they were out hunting._ "Let me guess: after that, they got rid of the deathclaw eggs."

"How did you know?"

_I saw them last night._ "A hunch. I used to do that back in the day." Two years prior, he himself went into Sloan and dispatched the deathclaws in order to acquire the eggs for the Thorn. "I'm guessing that one of them was a ghoul?"

"Exactly. You know, you really have a thing for hunches."

Zeus shrugged. "It comes natural."

* * *

"Hey, boss?" Walker felt himself being tossed around. "Boss?"

He finally snapped out of it and brought his head around, slightly irritated. "What time is it?"

"About seven." Charon was already up and ready to go. "Something just came up."

Walker sat up. "What is it?" _It better not be hunting for deathclaw eggs again._

"Check it." The ghoul motioned at Dogmeat. They watched the canine drag a small, heavy suitcase towards them. "You're not going to believe what's inside."

The Lone Wanderer flipped up the locks and lifted the top half. _What in the hell?_ The suitcase was packed with four lunchboxes held in place by duct tape. He picked one up and shook it around. _Son of a bitch! _"How much do you think is in one of these?"

"My guess is five hundred each."

"That makes us two thousand caps richer. Unless it isn't ours."

"Oh, it's definitely ours. One of the guards came over with the suitcase saying that it came from someone important."

The black man in the white suit came back into his head. The way he studied him, how he rubbed his goatee, how his eyes went as sharp as a blade at his movements; they gave birth to the suspicion that he was just more than a V.I.P. "You don't think…"

"My guess is as good as yours."

Dogmeat barked. Walker returned the box in the suitcase and stuffed it into the duffel bag. "Come on, we're going. Tell Red Lucy we're heading out."

"Already did."

_What was her reaction,_ he didn't ask. "Wait here." _I almost forgot._

Walker headed to the arena. He found her waiting on the catwalk. "You could have told me that that was your last fight. We could have thrown in a celebration for you."

"Flattering. But I have my personal businesses to attend to."

"Ah, settling scores? Perhaps that is the reason why you came all the way here."

"More than that, I believe." Walter Calixto was an enemy of the Brotherhood and a notorious member of the Enclave. His quest for the Gauss rifle contributed to the decision to acquire the weapon before he would. "There is one thing I should ask though."

"Anything."

"Who was that man you were with last night?"

Red Lucy curled her lips. "Ah, you really are a man of the far East. He is Zeus—the master of New Vegas and legend of the Mojave."

_Legend of the Mojave?_ "Tell me more."

"He was once a lowly courier until he was caught up in the tangles of desperate men. He soon fought his way to the top, eliminating enemies, helping the wasteland, and bringing order and independence to New Vegas. That is all I can say as my knowledge limits me to the Thorn."

_Interesting._ "Surely, you must know more."

"I'm sorry. But try asking some of the residents in the sewers or the people of Westside. He is very popular in and around the region."

"I see. Thank you very much, Lucy. It has been a pleasure."

"Same to you as well. The Thorn will honor you in its future battles."

"As I'm sure you would." With that, he headed back up to where Charon and Dogmeat were waiting for him. _So the man we were looking for all this time was the biggest shot in the whole region. Damn. _Ten minutes later, they were aboveground, savoring the fresh air and sunlight before heading towards the New Vegas Strip.

* * *

Zeus had allowed the NCR to retain some of its establishments in the Mojave such as the NCR embassy at the Strip, Camp McCarran, and the NCR Correctional Facility. All these were part of a long string of attachments to the diplomatic treaty signed at Goodsprings, nullifying the Treaty of New Vegas. Back then, Kimball had voiced little opposition. But with General Lee Oliver as the president-elect of the Republic, it was clear that the treaty would soon be a dangling thread waiting to be cut.

"I'm still thinking about it."

"How many times did everyone hear that?" Colonel Knight was visibly impatient. "Zeus, we need more resources. We are a nation-state. We expand. That means that we have more mouths to feed, more bodies to clothe. You understand that just as much as I do."

"Colonel, I know full well about the concerns of the Republic and the basic necessities that your people require. But the citizens of the Mojave have their needs as well."

"I'm amazed you haven't said, 'my people'," Knight muttered under his breath.

"Is there anything else that you wish to talk about."

A sigh. "Look, the more you hold down the offer, the more they'll be asking for it. I know that my constant visits have been bothering you but it's my job. Someone's got to do the work, you know."

_Yeah. If not it's not spilling blood, it's smooth-talking something out of someone._ "When is Oliver taking the seat?"

"Two months from now." Knight stood up and donned his beret. "Have a good day."

"You as well."

Zeus stared at the wall even after the elevators closed and the NCR officer was out of the Tops. _Oliver. Still pissed that I talked you out of New Vegas? Not until you straighten out your damn country will I even think of handing the Mojave over to you._

* * *

"Hello? Anyone in there?"

Veronica opened the door to see a man clad in formal attire, the sleeves of his jacket and the edges of his pants covered in dirt and grime. He had a scar on his cheek that denoted a sense of experience in him. "Yes?"

"Oh, I'm sorry." He was red with embarrassment. "Can you tell me if I'm going the right way?" He had that shy, innocent grin on his face.

_Well, another lost tourist._ "Where're you headed?"

"New Vegas," he replied sheepishly. He unfolded a rumpled map. "I'm not much of a navigator."

"Try your luck out on the tables? Sure, you're on the right track. Just follow up the road through Sloan. You'll pass by Camp McCarran but if you keep the right side of the map, you'll eventually end up in Freeside. Take the main gates and follow up until you reach the gate with the big sign, 'Welcome to the Strip'."

"Gee, thanks! I guess I got caught up in the money I was going to win that I forgot about the roads."

_Charming guy._ Veronica held the suspicion of the stranger but decided to let it go. _He's harmless as far as I can tell._ She decided to rest a bit at the old Jean Ski-diving shack just south of Goodsprings. As she was bedding the night, this man came knocking on the door.

"Do you live here, miss?"

"Just for tonight."

"Say, you wouldn't mind if… I, uh…" He was twiddling his fingers.

The Brotherhood scribe smirked. "Want a bed for the night?" _Oh, come on, Veronica!_ "Sure." _He is rather cute, though._ "Just stay on your side. Try to make a move and I'll make sure you have pieces of metal in your brain."

The visitor smiled. "Thank you so much! After all, my feet hurt and rumors have been going about that there were Powder Gangers hiding in the rocks."

"Deathclaws aren't a problem anymore in Sloan."

"What?" The man was visibly shaken by the remark.

"Deathclaws. You won't have to worry about them."

"Right," he sighed. "Well, then. I hope you don't mind."

"Here." Veronica pointed to the cot on the other side of the room. "That's yours."

"Thanks so much. Could I ask you your name? Just in case I might hit it big, you know."

"Hmm…" _It wouldn't hurt. He's just another ambitious gambler, after all._ "Okay. I'm Veronica."

"Nice to meet you, Veronica. I'm Steve." They shook hands.

"Have a good night then."

"You too." He watched her turn over and face the wall. He smiled as she slumbered off. Walter Calixto turned to look at the other wall and contemplated what he'd do with the girl. She was wearing a hood—a unique hood that had caught his attention when she opened the door. It was part of a garment familiar to him. _Scribe robe. Well, Veronica, I just might have a better use for you._


End file.
